


Merry Christmas, Yuuri

by shadhahvar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas Cake, Christmas traditions, First Christmas, Gen, Merry Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 18:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13129089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar
Summary: Phichit is new to the United States and wants Yuuri to explain to him how Christmas works in their part of North America.  Later that month, during Yuuri's National Championships, Phichit arranges a Christmas surprise.





	Merry Christmas, Yuuri

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sielu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sielu/gifts).



“Yuuri, what do you do for Christmas?”

Caught off guard by the question, he looked sideways at his fellow student and frowned. Christmas in Detroit was a different affair entirely from Christmas as he knew it back home; he suspected it’d be different yet again from Christmas in Thailand. Which he realised may or may not be celebrated, though if it was, it was likely as non-secular as his own familiar celebrations.

“Here, or back home?” His nod toward the front section of the Detroit Skate Club, vaguely where the shop sat, was his best approximation of _here, in Detroit._

Phichit flashed him a smile, turning to wave at Celestino and mime the holding of a camera phone for recording. His passion for social media was inspiring in its way; at seventeen, Phichit had a grasp of social media promotion that Yuuri still fumbled through even with occasional reminders from his agent. “Here, or home. Both! How’s it different?”

Yuuri shook his head, kicking off and heading toward the center of the ice, an eye on the other five skaters they were sharing the rink with for the next hour and a half. “Um, I can tell you what I’ve noticed? After practice.” Too distracting to focus on all the smaller and bigger details right now that Yuuri’d grown familiar with since he started training at the Detroit Skate Club with Celestino. There were the carols that played almost incessantly from November on, the Christmas decorations that appeared for sale or simply appeared decorating everything before the end of November, the appearance of Santa Claus and more religious understandings the Yuuri didn’t personally know much about. Christianity wasn’t his own faith; wasn’t much of a presence in Japan as a whole. 

Phichit called out his agreement as he glided past. “Okay!” He was gearing up for a triple, probably his axel. He’d been telling Yuuri he admired his triple axel, how he wanted to learn to jump like that, and then, facing the future head-on, manage a quad. 

_I want to show the world and my country that we skate just as wonderfully as everyone else. I’ll be the first Thai skater to land a quad in competition!_

Yuuri had smiled over that late night confession, resting his head against the wall and glancing toward the smaller poster of Victor Nikiforov framed over his light. _I’m looking forward to seeing that._

 _Good_ , had been Phichit’s prompt response. _Because it’s going to be at a competition where you’re skating, too._

It might have been because they were roommates in addition to competitive athletes, but the more time he spent with Phichit on and off the ice, the more Yuuri found himself relaxing and opening up around him. For someone who wasn’t naturally gifted at making friends, it was a happy, unexpected accident. Yuuri also found himself agreeing to more forays out into the city than he’d managed in the two years he’d been in Detroit _before_ Phichit had started skating under Celestino. The reason behind that was even easier to pinpoint: Yuuri didn’t find it particularly fun to go sightseeing on his own. Phichit’s enthusiasm was easier to be around, and sincere without being overbearing.

It did not, however, make Phichit a particularly patient person. Or that might have been because he was still a teenager, though Yuuri didn’t feel all that far removed from teenaged himself. Wasn’t he supposed to feel older and wiser, now that he’d reached his majority? He felt just as clueless as before, only now he had Phichit looking to him for answers he assumed Yuuri had.

Such as answers about Christmas. At the end of practice, after they’d gotten out of their skates and were stretching to keep themselves limber, Phichit was right back on topic. “About Christmas…”

Yuuri glanced up, looking around for Celestino. “I think Coach Celestino would be able to answer your questions better than I can.”

Phichit pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen. He looked over at Yuuri with a light laugh. “I’ll ask him too, but I’m curious. What do people do here in the United States for Christmas? It’s an important holiday here, right? It is in all the movies. Where can we go, what can we see?”

Did he even have an answer for any of that? Yuuri generally went to school and the Detroit Skate Club, sometimes he hit up the sport clothing store attached to the closest mall. Every so often a particularly strong sense of homesickness would send him out to foray in the culinary wilds for acceptable Japanese cuisine; after enough misses, he’d come across some tolerable hits. None of that had anything to do with Christmas. Dance studios offering different styles also didn’t answer the question of the _holiday_. What had other skaters mentioned? Any of his casual friends at the rink?

Yuuri scratched his cheek, eyes lifted up to regard the ceiling. “I think there’s an ice rink downtown that’s all lit up at night, at one of the parks? We’ve already seen the Christmas trees start showing up. The mall’s all decorated, lots of other stores are too. You’ve probably heard all the music, all those carols and songs about Christmas. That won’t stop until New Years.” What else, what else? He perked up, clapping his hands together. “People dress up as Santa Claus?” 

Phichit listened intently, nodding along as if checking off each item on a mental list only he knew about. He grinned at the end of Yuuri’s list, eyes lighting up. “ _Mall Santa_ ,” he said, tucking his phone away. “Yuuri, can we take a picture with a real American Mall Santa?”

His eyebrows quirked up, amusement and disbelief mingling in his expression. “I guess? If we have time, we can head down to the mall. Not today or anything, but I’ve been meaning to get more socks, so…”

Phichit literally jumped for joy, kicking his heels up and throwing both hands in the air. “Great! Let me tell Ciao-Ciao!”

Watching him run off, Yuuri vaguely hoped Celestino would have the presence of mind to say no.

Celestino had not said _no_ : he’d said later. “Later” ended up being a week and a half after, with Yuuri bundled up and buckling into the passenger seat, and Phichit bounding into the back of Celestino’s vehicle. “Mall Santa, here we come!”

Yuuri was a week out from flying to Japan for the Figure Skating Championships, nervous because he was always nervous prior to touching down on the ice. His ranking there would qualify him to the Four Continents, Worlds, or neither. It’d be the first event of the season he’d be participating in on home ground: while he’d been invited to one Grand Prix competition, he’d ended up being assigned to the Cup of China instead of the NKH. The ISU seemed to work in bizarre ways at times, and he was more than a little bothered by the fact that _Victor Nikiforov_ had been assigned to the NHK, but Yuuri, dime a dozen skater that he was, couldn’t even get assigned to skate in his own country.

It felt like a missed chance, with Victor gearing up for another Gold at the Grand Prix Final, liable to get the same in the European Championships. Yuuri had very narrow windows of competition. Unless Victor was in one of the senior level international competitions that weren’t directly tied to the invitationals or the championships hosted by the ISU, the only chance Yuuri would have to skate on the same ice as him this year was at Worlds.

Hence he had to get gold in Japan, had to be the best contender for senior men’s singles, and had to make do with his average skills to earn his place there. _I must, I must, I must_. It was a litany running through his mind he found hard to escape.

Phichit had no similar concerns. His debut in seniors was another season off, and his international competitions of the season had started off with the Lombardia Trophy. While he’d come in sixth, nothing about Phichit read as defeated. He’d simply come back and pointed out in good cheer he had better heights to reach, all while listening to Celestino’s coaching advice.

He’d also started talking about getting hamsters. Yuuri still wasn’t sure if the two were related, or the timing had simply been what it was, but the hamster idea had been mentioned at least once a week since.

Whatever his thoughts on skating were took a backseat when they all piled out of the car, decorations for the winter season strung up and lining the streets as they drove. Within the parking structure things looked like normal, but once they got inside the mall, the seasonal cheer was overwhelming. Giant ornaments hung from the ceiling, Christmas trees and Christmas lights were everywhere, storefronts were transformed into dynamic displays with santa hats, elves, bells, reindeer, and even sprigs of mistletoe.

The sheer volume of _people_ was enough to have him hunching his shoulders, adjusting the face mask that earned him odd glances here in Detroit back in place. He couldn’t afford to get sick right before Nationals. The fact more people from the United States didn’t favour wearing masks to fend off illness was one of those details he simply accepted and found odd without commenting on it. Phichit didn’t mind bringing it up; Yuuri simply shrugged and moved on. To each their own concerns.

Still, he wanted to get in and out as soon as possible, and Phichit wanted to see Mall Santa, and Celestino looked like he wasn’t entirely sure any of this was a good idea in the first place. They managed to tackle the sport clothing store first, taking a load off Yuuri’s mind when he had his new socks in hand and even, happily, on sale. Christmas cheer, like the ongoing incessant play of Christmas music throughout the mall and within each store, found a small place in his heart. It also withered in the face of even more _people_ , and once Phichit had them all waiting in line to see Santa Claus, Yuuri half wanted to beg off and go hide in the bathrooms until he was texted they were leaving.

Not because he was embarrassed. (He might have been.) Just because by the time he’d heard the third child break into hysterical tears when set on Santa’s lap he wanted to be anywhere but there. He tightened his grip on his bag of socks, tuned out what he could, and focused on Phichit and Celestino instead.

“... more or less a holiday tradition. People tend to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with friends or family when they can.”

“Really? So it _is_ like in some of the movies I’ve seen.” Phichit mused over this, shifting his attention to Yuuri. “Didn’t you say people liked to spend time with family and friends in Japan, too?”

Yuuri hummed a non-answer, looking at the back of the head of whatever mother was herding her two young children forward in line. One of Santa’s Helpers, as the people dressed in green and white managing the line were labeled, gestured them all forward. “Keep the line moving, please! Santa wants to get to see everyone today.”

“Yuuri!”

Blinking, he turned his attention back to Phichit, who laughed and simply waited for the response he had yet to be given. “Er, yes? People celebrate with friends if they want. Sometimes gifts get exchanged on Christmas Eve, stuff like that. There’s the cake I told you about last time you asked. Not to be confused for Christmas Cake here.” Yuuri shuddered, having encountered that culinary delight the year before when a fellow skater had brought in her Grandmother’s recipe. “Other people make it more of a couples holiday. There’s some nice light shows set up, the Christmas trees can be pretty. Then there’s the fried chicken if you want something special for dinner.” His family hadn’t indulged in that often growing up, but that was more a lack of access to KFC than a dislike of fried chicken, or even the practice. Besides, he preferred fried and breaded pork cutlets. Particularly over rice with onion and egg.

 _Katsudon._ If he did well at Nationals, maybe he’d treat himself. It wouldn’t be as good as what he would have at Yu-topia, but it’d be nice. _Real katsudon…_

They were gestured forward, now next in line behind the woman with her two children. 

“Fried chicken is a special dinner?”

“In a way? It’s a bucket of chicken from KFC. Like the one they have somewhere here in the mall near the food court.” He could feel his mistake as soon as he’d made it, Celestino already holding up his hands as Phichit lit up and whirled on Yuuri.

“So we can get it while we’re here?!”

“Yes, but—”

“Ciao-Ciao! Can we fit a chicken bucket into our diet tonight? Please?”

“If Yuuri doesn’t think it’ll settle poorly on his stomach with him heading into nationals…” Celestino trailed off, fixing Yuuri with a knowing look. They both knew what was on the line if his performance suffered, so Celestino left it up to Yuuri to make calls on how safe he wanted to play it.

“Yuuri?”

“It’s fine.” He knew it’d be fine. Of the many things he worried about, a one-off indulgence in a piece or two of fried chicken wasn’t high up on the list of things about to ruin Yuuri Katsuki. He was perfectly capable of doing that to himself with no help whatsoever. He smiled at Phichit, remembering to smile with his eyes when his mask hid the curve of his lips. “Let’s get KFC after you… take a selfie with Santa.”

Which evolved in short order to Yuuri taking a photo of Phichit, Santa Claus, and one of Santa’s Helpers, who had proclaimed that as an elf, they were by rights necessary for any s **elf** ie. Phichit was delighted. Yuuri was unsure. Celestino idly leaned in and watched Yuuri take the photo, leaving Yuuri undecided on what, if anything, his coach thought of the present proceedings.

The picture was already uploaded to Phichit’s Instagram (hashtag: # _RealMallSanta_ ) by the time they’d made it past the tail end of Santa’s Winter Wonderland and joined in with the throng of people moving through the mall. The food court was packed, all seats taken.

“We can get it to go,” Yuuri offered, really wanting to be gone from the mall already.

“It’ll be easier than trying to find someplace to sit down.” Celestino surveyed the room, tucking his hands back into his pockets with an affable shrug. He’d apparently chosen his tone for the evening: indulgent and amused.

“Why does that sound like Ciao-Ciao’s getting out of eating KFC?”

“Hm,” Yuuri said, lips twitching under his mask as he gave their coach a speculative look. “I don’t know, he could always come up to the recreation room if he wanted.”

“Who could possibly resist an offer like that?” Celestino chuckled, nodding toward the registers. “Time to order. One bucket of fried chicken and… two sides? Biscuits? Everything and whatever comes with it.”

“Which sides do we want?”

“Coleslaw? Potato wedges?” Yuuri relied on the familiar ones. Corn was another, maybe a better choice. “Corn?” 

“One eight piece chicken bucket with coleslaw and corn, please!” Phichit favoured the consonance without thinking overmuch about it, taking a moment for another selfie after their order was in. Waiting at the far end of the counter, Phichit casually brought up their conversation from in line. “Will you be eating not-healthy but delicious fried chicken with us tonight, Ciao-Ciao?”

Celestino eyed him, lifting his eyebrows after a moment. “In the car?”

“Works for me.”

“Then we have a plan.”

Making it out of the mall with their order proved to be easier than making it out of the parking structure, let alone navigating the roads. They still made reasonable time back toward Yuuri and Phichit’s dormitory. Finding a place to park for long enough to eat was a different adventure, and Celestino waved them on after he’d managed to finish off most his piece of fried chicken. “See you both first thing in the morning,” he said, and then he was turning his car around and disappearing down the way.

It did make for a more companionable and easygoing evening when it was down to Phichit and Yuuri, commandeering one desk as a serving table. With both chairs pulled up close and plastic utensils distributed, they made their game best before deciding the spork was an instrument for torture: if not of people, than of the hungry who couldn’t get it to cooperate either way. Yuuri said he’d prefer chopsticks; Phichit wondered why they couldn’t just offer a normal spoon and fork.

Not that it mattered so much when most everything was meant for eating by hand. Biting into a leg, Yuuri licked his fingers clean before leveling a question that’d been mulling in the back of his mind at Phichit.

“What do you do for Christmas, anyway? You kept asking about here, or in Japan, but I don’t know anything about Christmas in Thailand.”

Phichit shrugged, sipping from his water bottle. “In Bangkok you see decorations put up everywhere. Elephant statues get santa hats! Big malls and some of the hotels have Christmas trees. When we start out celebrating the King’s birthday at the beginning of the month, we end up celebrating all through the beginning of the next year.”

“The King’s birthday?”

Phichit paused to lick his fingers clean. “Yep! December 5th.” He sat back in his chair, one foot pulled up to rest on the seat. “You’ve never been here for Christmas, have you?”

Yuuri pulled both his legs up on the chair, loosely circling his arms around them. It gave him enough resistance to hold position, humming under his breath as he glanced down toward the floor. “Not Christmas Day,” he said at last, sounding as faintly apologetic as he felt. “The Japanese National Championship is always about that time of year. It’s not something I can afford to miss, especially not if I want to be sent on to Four Continents or Worlds.” He lifted his chin, seeking Phichit’s gaze. “You’re planning on staying here while we’re back East?”

“Flights can be expensive.” Phichit seemed to consider that fact, lips pulling up at the corners as he tipped his head to the side, attention fixing on Yuuri. “But from the sounds of things, I’m coming along with you and Ciao-Ciao. Time for off-ice training!”

Yuuri didn’t know how much of that strictly made sense. He had no idea what training with another full-time student with Celestino would be like in the first place; Celestino taught private lessons in addition to his coaching with Yuuri, but they were largely short term or one-off affairs. He found himself smiling regardless, propping his chin up on his knees. 

“I’ll try not to bore you.”

“I’ll complain on Instagram.”

Yuuri pulled a face. “Then I _definitely_ can’t bore you. How did you even get the following you have on there?”

Phichit just gave him an enigmatic smile and a wink. Somehow, even on a seventeen year old, it wasn’t all that reassuring. That it made Yuuri smile before dropping the subject was simply amusement at the intended vagary.

The next week was a blur of activity and training, with Yuuri checking and double checking and triple checking his skates and laces, and Celestino doing the same. Then they were bundled up and at the airport and boarding for a connecting flight, then onward to Sapporo. His parents had sent him good luck wishes; with the time everything ran, it was likely they’d have a viewing party set up in the dining room. Yuuri tried very carefully not to think about that.

He slept for as much of the flight as he could manage, parked between Celestino in the aisle seat and Phichit at the window. 

Being back in Japan always sounded more comforting than it necessarily felt. He was islands away from his family, and never really found the time to visit with his schedule being as packed as it was. There were interviews, press conferences, short meetings with sponsors to handle, all that after and before and around warmups and practice skates and eating and drinking and trying not to let his head get away from him. He knew he’d go home eventually, but only when there was something worth going home _with_. A Championship title that wasn’t from home ground.

Secretly, he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d skated his best on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov, but so far, his competitive career had managed to ensure that rarely happened. What two showings he’d had at Worlds hadn’t been worthy of pretending he was skating on anything close to equal ice.

He was more relaxed than he expected as Phichit peppered him with questions and statements, phone out and aiming for artful selfies even at the airport terminal. Phichit’s priorities were partially on hold when he relied on wireless access to update his Instagram, but his natural enthusiasm for someplace he hadn’t been wasn’t dampened in the slightest.

Yuuri crashed earlier than either coach or fellow skater, leaving Celestino to keep an eye on Phichit in the interim. He wasn’t quite old enough to be running off on his own, though apparently that was exactly what he was planning on doing anyway. He managed to play it cool for exactly the two days where Yuuri ran through his programs, being on hand to congratulate Yuuri on his gold after the scores had been announced. “Good skating!” from Phichit elicited a smile and private, _It could have been even better_ from Yuuri, but that was a conversation he’d already started with Celestino. He could accept the well-meant congratulations before he headed into interviews and a press conference, Nationals not over for another two days, but his part almost done. The gala and the banquet were the day after ladies finished up with their free skates, and then it would be all packed up and heading back to Detroit, Michigan, United States of America, right as the Christmas traveling traffic was at a high.

It’d been much easier to accept Phichit’s compliments alongside Celestino’s after his gala piece, all the nerves that came along with his usual performances jangling less fiercely when he took the ice for his own love of skating. It was _fun_. He remembered when skating had always felt fun; even these days, it mostly felt fun, punctuated with stress and moments of overwhelming certainty about his own inadequacies, his own average nature as a skater. Those moments always gave way when he was on the ice.

 _I love this_. He couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t.

He wasn’t quite as fond of the necessity of all the other details involved with his competitive career, but his agent had managed to coordinate most everything for the day after the competition ended. Which meant tomorrow, which meant theoretically, he should get to bed early. Instead he was playing games on his phone while Celestino flipped channels on the television and Phichit scrolled through his social media accounts. 

Phichit, who perked up and leaned sideways to look past Yuuri at the clock on the side table, like his phone itself couldn’t be trusted to have automatically adjusted to the current timezone. “Ciao-Ciao, Yuuri, I’m going to run down to the store on the ground floor before it closes.” It was roughly seven. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m fine.” Yuuri raised his eyebrows, putting his game on pause. “Want company?”

“No, this should be quick. Ciao-Ciao! Anything for you?”

Celestino waved Phichit off with a grand gesture. Celestino used _many_ grand gestures when talking with his students. “No thank you, just come right back. No running out for selfies, Phichit.” Here Celestino fixed him with a knowing look. “We’ll have time for that tomorrow.”

“Including the light displays?”

“Including the light displays.”

Phichit picked up his phone, wagging it playfully at Celestino, then shrugged while heading for his shoes. “Okay, I promise. No running out for selfies! Yet.”

He was already slipping out into the hall with a laugh when Celestino called out, “Phichit!”

“He’ll come back.”

“The real question is when.” Celestino shook his head, then laughed, low and resigned. “Nothing holds him down in life. It’s part of why he’ll keep doing well going forward.” 

“Mm.” Yuuri shifted forward, sitting up straight instead of leaning back against the headboard. “It’s a good quality.” One Yuuri struggled with at times, but he pushed through. Striving further, driving himself harder, toward his goal. Goals, really, but if capturing the ice when Victor was on it too was the first step, then the rest would take form at that point. Right now, he still had to get on that level.

“It is. Like you and your dedication to training. Neither of you understand the meaning of giving up.”

Yuuri scoffed, not sure he believed that so much as his own inherent stubbornness. “Can’t give up if we want to reach our dreams.”

“That’s right,” Celestino said, smiling. “Setbacks are just part of that process.”

“Like messing up a landing?”

“Yes, like that. Yuuri, you took first place! You’ve been announced for Four Continents and the World Championship. We know what we’ll be working on to make sure your programs are as polished as possible by the time we hit Worlds.”

He sighed, looking down at the game on his phone. “I know.” Easier to acknowledge that than try to break down his frustrations. All those were inwardly aimed, and even Yuuri had to admit he’d managed to get through Nationals doing relatively well.

Phichit, to no one’s surprise, wasn’t back “right away.” Closer to twenty minutes after leaving, there was a happy rapping of knuckles at the door. Yuuri slid off the bed, leaving his phone on the covers, stifling a yawn as went. 

“Did you forget your keycard?”

Phichit stood outside the door wearing a big grin and holding up a cake box. “Merry Christmas Yuuri!” Bustling right past him, Phichit kicked off his shoes, carrying the cake box to the bed and setting it down. “Ciao-Ciao, look! I brought Christmas cake! They even gave us forks and plates for everything.” He grinned, lifting his left hand, bag dangling from his wrist.

“They were selling these downstairs?” Celestino muted the television, bright colours flashing without sound. He hefted up and forward to look over at the other bed, resting his hands on his knees.

“Nope! There’s a bakery a few blocks away. They do late deliveries!” He sounded so pleased with himself. “I talked with them two days ago? Anyway, Yuuri, I want to open the cake! You need to be here!”

Yuuri nudged Phichit’s cast-off shoes toward the wall, cutting down on the tripping hazard he was most likely to run into in the middle of the night. Phichit wasn’t usually so careless; he was excited. Yuuri felt caught between amusement and feeling touched. Christmas didn’t have any particular importance for him, at least not for being a holiday. Even now his favourite part of this time of the year was getting through Nationals and being thankful that Victor Nikiforov was born. The two were somewhat related, but not precisely in any holiday spirit. “I’m coming. You know you didn’t have to do this, right?”

“Who said anything about having to do anything?” He laughed, gesturing for Yuuri to come sit on the bed, shifting around until there was space for him. “I want to see what it came out like.” He left the side of the bed open so Celestino could see the cake too as he opened the top with impatient care.

Strawberries, whipped frosting, a sugar santa, and a small, thin piece of chocolate that said _Merry Christmas_ decorated the top of the otherwise white-frosted cake. A variation on familiar ones to Yuuri, but the familiarity had him smiling anyway. 

Phichit loved it, his pleasure spilling over into taking a photo of the cake alone for his Instagram, then insisting they all needed to take a picture with the cake before they ate any. “You’re having a piece, Ciao-Ciao, no getting away without one!”

Their coach had laughed, ducking down on Phichit’s direction until all three of their faces were in frame, the cake tipped in front of them just enough to be legible. “On three, say Merry Christmas!”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

“Merry Christmas!” “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas!”

The cake was better than Yuuri expected, guilt free when surrounded by the pleasant knowledge he’d pulled through on almost his best at nationals. He’d need to do better for Four Continents, and _more_ than better for Worlds, but that wasn’t new. What was new sat to his side or on the bed across from him, holding up paper plates and eating cake with small white plastic forks. Yuuri might not have celebrated Christmas over-much, too busy and disconnected from aspects of it in his life, but in recent history? In what he could remember?

This was the warmest Christmas Eve he’d had in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays to everyone! This was part of a Yuri!!! On Yuletide exchange that happened over on Twitter, for Sielu.


End file.
